The sun in the west, still resembling a shriveled red persimmon, was not as warm as it had just been. A sudden south wind blew up the plastic bags that were serene in the middle of the street.

On a March day here in the north, it's not surprising that the wind is strong enough to blow down a small sapling, let alone such a lonely plastic bag. After a while, it had floated into the air like a kite and disappeared behind the building.

After hanging up the phone, I lit a "Changbai Mountain", and after the thick choking smoke went all the way down my mouth and into the entrance of my throat, it was divided into two parts, most of which went into the nasal cavity and a small part into the lungs.

I had a cough, I studied for two months, and I still couldn't smoke, I thought smoking would make me think calmly, but now it seems that it is not suitable for me at all.

After that series of events, I completely lost the direction of my life, as if I had fallen into a dark primeval forest, where I had no destination, no reference to draw on from which I had walked, everything was dark, as if it was always night.

This call pulled me out of such a cold-blooded forest, and the person who pulled me was the second uncle.

"Sudy."

I silently recited in my heart, this is also the first time I have heard the name of my second uncle.

The afternoon call came from Beijing, and I did not hesitate to quit my job at the restaurant, bid farewell to Ahsan, who had been basking in the sun with me for two months, and set out on the journey.

In the past years, there are too many questions that have plagued me, I have never been in close contact with my second uncle, and there is always a crack in the door or a father between our uncle and nephew.

The noise of the train made it difficult for me to sleep, so I plugged in my headphones, and the familiar Beatles' "Norwegian Wood" was no longer irritable, and the evocative melody filled my ears, and I soon fell asleep.

It was already past 11 o'clock in the morning of the next day when I arrived at Beijing Station, and the reason why I chose the hard sleeper train was because I didn't have much money to choose other means of transportation as an "orphan".

Compared with the Liaodong Peninsula adjacent to the Bohai Sea, Beijing's "spring March" is much less windy and more saturated with sunlight.

This is my first time in Beijing, or my first trip. I didn't have time to pay attention to the bustling crowds of the square in front of the station and the scenery of the capital, and there was only one place that could cheer me up.

"Pan Jiayuan", the address given to me by the second uncle's client, it was a middle-aged woman's voice, the tone was gentle, making people feel warm when they sounded, like a spring breeze. I think if it's a mother, it's the same tone.

By this time, my stomach was already protesting to me in a way that was ready to leave my body. From the time I stepped on the train until now, the rice has not entered,

I took a few bites of bread in my backpack and poured two mouthfuls of water, finally saving myself from being a little dizzy.

After an hour of tossing and turning, I reached the first stop that pulled me out of the dark "forest", "Panjiayuan".

Although the route was already planned on the train, it was still a little difficult for me as a newcomer, even if I deviated from the route several times, I did not ask anyone for help, and my stubborn personality took the lead at this time, but fortunately I finally reached my destination.

Avoiding the roadside chasing jade sellers, I passed through the stalls where a group of foreigners gathered, and came to the door of an antique shop, where the three golden characters of "Qing Xianju" were inlaid in the black wooden plaque.

The right side of the two-person wide wooden door is engraved, "Frustrated Write Poetry and Poetry Freehand", and the left side is engraved, "Affectionate Reward Guest Reward".

This location was sent to my phone in the form of a text message yesterday after I hung up.

I paced towards the door, and at this moment my heart was uneasy, on the one hand, the excitement of seeing a woman with a gentle voice like a mother, and on the other hand, the worry that what my second uncle had left behind would solve my troubles.

The delicate furnishings and all kinds of luxurious antiques in the room did not interest me in the slightest, and the only thing that caught my attention was the back of a person sitting upright with his back to the door, the back of a cheongsam with curly hair.

As if sensing my arrival, the woman sitting on the wooden chair got up leisurely and slowly turned in my direction. The pale green embroidered cheongsam perfectly prints the woman's figure, and the concave and convex lines make me feel that this cheongsam is so beautiful, the most beautiful dress I have ever seen. The temperature inside the room was much warmer than outside, and she didn't put on her shawl, and her two white arms were bare. Her neck and chin were as white as her arms.

"You're Su Mo, right?"

The lips with pale red lipstick touched up and down, and once again the warm voice I heard on the phone.

"Yes."

I replied.

She smiled, this smile made me feel tired after the journey, although her facial features are not particularly beautiful, but the comfortable temperament, and the smile that shows under the skin that has not left any traces of age, makes me feel like I am wrapped in a warm cotton, soft.

"I'm your second uncle's friend, you can call me Aunt Ming."

She still kept the smile that made me feel like a spring breeze, and she motioned for me to sit down next to the chair she had just sat in.

I sat down obediently, feeling a little lost, this emotion arose after she asked me to call Aunt Ming, and the original hope of finding my mother was completely shattered in this conversation.

While I was still immersed in my hope, she handed me two things, a black leather notebook, and a bank card.

"This is what your second uncle left you, the bank card password is six zeros, and the content in the notebook should be able to answer a lot of your confusion."

I took these two things, and the apprehension I felt when I entered the door was gone, replaced by calm.

"Where's the second uncle?"

I asked.

"He went to finish something that he thought he had to do and couldn't put off any longer, and he should be in the middle of a mountain or a dense forest."

Aunt Ming's expression was a little quietly lonely, quietly looking at the bustling crowd outside the door.

I didn't have the heart to break her sudden silence, and carefully opened the black notebook in my hand, the paper inside had begun to yellow, and it seemed that this notebook was some years old.

What puzzled me was that several pages after the first page were torn off, revealing the content of the "fake" homepage that recorded the scene of the second uncle's first study of archaeology and his first internship. I didn't know the occupation of the second uncle for a long time, but now it seems to be somewhat clear, and a resounding name appears in this notebook, "Provincial Cultural Relics and Archaeological Researcher".